Time Will Tell
by gothangelic
Summary: -ON HOLD- My actions have changed my own life, and my perspectives. It's not just myself who has been ripped apart and I can't let this happen. Not when I have the ability to change the life of those whom I care about.


**Note from gothangelic:**

_No recognizable characters in this fic belong to me, however the storyline is entirely my own. Everyone else belongs to their respective creators and companies._

_This fic is set after movie events, and will likely be rewritten and fleshed out much more once I'm done. Please make note of all warnings before heading in. It will be slash. Not only slash, but timeslash, and incest, if you want to look at the characters as they're portrayed in the movie. I'm going to modify that, and it will be justified within the borders of this fic._

_You could consider this AU after a fashion because I'm going to be playing with the time stream so that the events in the movie will be modified. Using my version of time stream, those who have modified time exist outside of it. For example, Wilbur, having changed time, cannot unmake himself, thereby creating a paradox wherein there was no Wilbur to change things to unmake himself. If he, for instance, goes back in time, and kills his mother before he's born, he won't cease to exist. Time, and his time machine, so long as it's with him, will still exist, but it will exist in paradox. The world around will not remember him when he goes back to his current time, except for people who exist outside of the time stream, such as Lewis, and the T-Rex, and Michael Yagoobian. The characters do not know this aspect as of yet, but may discover it during the course of the fic.  
_

_Doris the bowler hat, however, ceases to exist when Lewis tells her that he will never invent her. She is not sentient, and, for my purposes, does not have an animus (a soul, if you will), so the instant that Lewis makes a firm resolution to never invent her, she ceases to be. The same thing would happen if he had resolved never to invent the time machine, but, well, that would destroy it, as it does not have an animus._

_Lewis woke Goob up at his ball game, but even though Goob's life changed after that, the Michael Yagoobian of current time (the future, in regards to the movie) has dual memories of his childhood as it was, and as he changed it to be (think like the Butterfly Effect)._

_In summary:  
-A firm, detailed resolve with intention to carry out an action regarding the past will immediately change the character's current situation.  
-Someone existing outside of time, even if they've gone back to their proper time, will not be directly affected by the choices of others that exist outside of time.  
-If a character changes time, they, and all others existing outside of time will have dual memories, and be able to differentiate between them, even if they don't know what was changed due to the fact that they didn't change anything themselves._

* * *

**The garage felt empty as I put the top on the time machine down. I landed on the garage floor, and my sneakers squeaked on the smooth polished concrete. I made sure the door was closed and locked before heading for the transport tube that would take me back to the observatory grounds. That wasn't a mistake that I was keen to make again.**

I wasn't looking forward to facing down Mom. Even less was I looking forward to seeing Dad. In my mind, he was still Lewis, and I missed my best friend. I missed the butterflies that I had felt when I got my first look at him at age 12. It wasn't fair that I'd had to give him up. None of my other friends in class looked at me the way he had when he realized that I was actually telling the truth about being from the future. Awe and fear, and absolute, utter fascination. At school, I was the freak.

Because of growing up where I had, I was too smart for my own good. The administration had long ago placed me in advanced classes, skipped me grades. I was the only 13-year-old in the Junior year of High School. My social life did not suffer; it simply did not exist. I sighed as I was popped out the other end of the transport tube, and landed heavily on the ground, bouncing on the spring grass over to the side door of the house.

Everything was dark and quiet, which was never the case at the Robinson house. Maybe it'd just been a long day for everyone, and they were already in bed. I sincerely hoped I was right, but knew I that was not the case.

Yep, I was still grounded forever. So said Mom. I couldn't hear past her furious expression. I don't think I'd ever seen her so mad at me. Cornelius was suspiciously absent from the chewing out. When Mom finally calmed down a bit, I stammered quietly, "Where's Dad?"

"He's outside cleaning up your mess, young man. I'd send you out to help him," she said, "but he insisted that I not do that."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean all this to happen the way it did. Lewis was never supposed to meet all of you. It was supposed to be in-and-out, done-and-gone. I'm so sorry..." Tears were welling in my eyes. Mom came over from the doorway and put her arms around me, and sighed.

"I can't say that I agree with your methods, but it was an admirable thing that you did, trying to make up for your mistake. You just went about it the wrong way. Now go on, head up to bed. You've had a long day. Longer than most." I nodded, and headed upstairs. Mom shook her head as I walked away.  
I'd never studied the carpet as intricately as I did on the way to my room. Sleep would escape me that night.

I kicked my shoes off in a corner, then peeled off my shirt and left it in a crumpled heap on top of them, followed closely by my jeans. A new pair of boxers and a clean tee later, I dropped heavily onto my bed, my head crashing into the pillow. It was useless, trying to clear today's events from my head. Thoughts swirled around and around, my confusion reigning supreme over all the rest.

Lewis, the boy genius, the boy who would grow up to change the world, the boy who would grow up to become my father, had understood me. He didn't stare at me like I was some sideshow freak. He most certainly didn't look down on me in disappointment like Cornelius did when he was upset. He didn't feel like my father. He stirred something in me for which I had no name, no basis for comparison. Lewis felt so much more alive than Cornelius, and that fascinated me. Growing up, Lewis must have lost something vital, some spark of life, to have shaped him into Cornelius.

My head pounded with thoughts, and my chest positively ached. I had so many questions for which I possessed no answers, and I had the answers to puzzles that had yet to be devised. I did the only thing that I could think of; I wrote.

I pulled the tablet out from underneath my mattress, and set stylus to screen. I wrote for what seemed to be hours on end, pouring out every emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. I listed my confusions and concerns, and every detail that I could remember while it was still fresh in my mind. I tried to describe the strange sensation of twisting in my guts when I thought of the bespectacled friend that I had left behind, would never see again, and the man that was left in his place. I tried to explain that, in my mind, Cornelius and my Lewis were not the same person anymore, even though I hoped fervently that my Lewis was still buried somewhere inside.

I missed the boy who had so quickly become my best friend. The first time that I'd seen his wide-set blue eyes, it felt as if I'd fallen off a cliff. There had been a sense of unexplained vertigo that nearly sent me packing. But curiosity, as always, had gotten the better of me. I was Wilbur Robinson; nothing could stop me from getting what I really, truly, wanted.

I could never forget those eyes, though, and the shy smiles that I'd eventually gotten out of him. Even the sight of his awed face when I showed him what would eventually become could not compare to those smiles. I was addicted. I'd walk through fire to see him happy, and I had no explanation for that.

To think that I'd nearly broken him by taking off that stupid hat and revealing his identity to my family was painful, to say the least. I doubted that I could ever make up for letting him have that particular hope, then stealing it away at the last possible moment.

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at my bedroom door. I stashed the tablet under my pillow, just as the door opened to reveal a shock of blond hair, nearly glowing in the near-darkness of my bedroom. Cornelius tried a smile as he peeked in. It looked like it was causing him pain.

"Hey, Wilbur. May I come in for a bit?" I nodded, my voice having left me. Cornelius sat next to me on my bed. I backed into the corner, leaning against the wall. In the soft light of the desk lamp at the end of the bed, he looked younger than he was, and I felt my heart twist painfully. He's not your Lewis.

"Busy day, I hear. Or, rather, I remember." I spared a glance at his profile as he stared intently at his folded hands like they held the secrets of the universe. Maybe they did. Had that wrenching glimmer of sadness always been held in his eyes, though? Guilt told me that I should have noticed. "I'll try talking your mother down from the eternal grounding." His smile turned into a smirk, then just as quickly, fell back down.

"Thanks," I managed softly. My throat was tight like I hadn't spoken for months.

"It's going to be difficult to explain to you, Wilbur, but some day you'll understand that you need to know this now. By going back in time, you changed course of events. You, in effect, took yourself out of the time stream. If your history is changed now, the world around you will reflect that change. You'll be aware of this change, though, and have a dual set of memories.

"For instance, if I go back in time and refuse my adoption, I'll still remember everything that happened the first time around. Mom and Dad wouldn't. They will have lived their lives in this alternate time stream as if I never was, and remember absolutely nothing, because there will have been nothing to remember. Time is a resilient force, Wilbur; it tends to right itself in strange ways. Think about Michael Yagoobian, and you'll realize what I mean."

I did as he asked, and realized that I had dual memories of Michael now, just like Cornelius said. He'd changed everything. I remembered Michael as Uncle Goob, of all things. He was even on a minor league baseball team. Astounding, I thought, and looked up at Cornelius. The light caught on his glasses, and it looked like his eyes were glowing.

"I keep a tablet pad like you do, Wilbur. It's been very helpful over the years. Keep track of your thoughts. Even with intention, you can change things. Once you make up your mind with intention to act, you've already changed things, and if your intention involves the past, it will automatically be reflected in the current time." He looked at me sadly. "The world is on your shoulders, and under your foot, Wilbur."

He stood up, walked toward the door, looked back at me. Had his eyes always looked so sadly? "I will never use those machines again. I couldn't take it if... I don't want to think about what might have happened. I couldn't bear it if you had unmade yourself, because I'd know it. In my heart, I'd know that someone precious to me was missing." He gave me a watery smile that looked so very sad, like his heart was breaking.

My throat tightened like a vice, and I could barely breathe without it aching. I couldn't have said anything, even if I had wanted to. He stood up from my bed, looked down and ruffled my hair. I heard his soft 'good night' and caught a look of misery as he walked out, closing the door behind him. It was a Lewis look, not one that I had ever associated with Cornelius.

I reviewed my childhood memories to see what else had changed. The one change that stuck out the most in my mind was that Cornelius seemed so distant. Birthdays, holidays, even just day to day happenings, he was more reserved than he had been before, in my original set of memories. Something fundamental that made Lewis himself was lost in the fray of time. What was left was Cornelius.

It was my fault that he was like this. When the tears finally came, they overwhelmed me. My pillow crushed against my face as I buried my face to muffle sobs that shook my entire body. I mourned the loss of my best friend, my Lewis. I knew when I'd first met him, when I first saw his unrestrained smile, that I was sunk. I had fallen head over heels in love with the twelve-year-old version of my father. And while I couldn't fathom a life without him, I also couldn't envision that we'd ever be able to be happy.

I didn't hear Cornelius' agonized gasp in the hallway outside my room, nor did I see him slump against the wall like a man wounded, sobbing quietly into his hands.


End file.
